


Appropriate Use of Explosives

by thilesluna



Series: That Lunael Collection [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-29 01:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8470216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: Miles brings home a cat, Michael is unimpressed. FROM A TUMBLR PROMPT! :D





	

They’re sitting at home one night and the cat—the stupid _fucking_  cat that won’t let Michael touch it or get anywhere near Miles when he’s around—is on Miles’ lap. Michael is squished against the arm of the couch, desperately trying not to glare at the stupid thing but he can’t help the sidelong glances when he thinks Miles is concentrating on the TV.

“So,” Miles says suddenly enough that Michael jumps out of his day dream of locking the dumb thing in the bathroom just so he can spend time with his boyfriend. “I saw on the news this morning that someone blew up one of the buildings down town slated for demolition.”

“Huh,” Michael says. “That’s—convenient for the city?” Jeremy had insisted that if they were going to blow something up it was going to be something no one cared about. _Just because you’re jealous of a pussy…cat_.

“Michael.”

“Miles.”

“Did you blow up that building? You were out late last night.” Miles shifts to look at him and Michael stares straight ahead at the television.

“I’m surprised you noticed I was out,” he bites back, more venom than he really means but he can tell it does its job.

Miles reaches out and touches his arm. “What do you mean?” His voice is soft and genuinely confused. All the anger deflates from Michael at once.

“Never mind, it’s stupid,” he mutters. It really is stupid. He’s jealous of a fucking cat! Miles loves the dumb thing and Michael should be able to hold it together enough to let him enjoy it.

“It’s not, though,” Miles insists. “Not if you’re sneaking out to blow up buildings.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Michael tries again. “Really. It’s nothing big. I’m just—” And what can he say that doesn’t make him sound like an idiot? There’s nothing really. This is the most ridiculous situation he’s ever been in. He just misses being curled up under Miles’ arm or Miles seeking him out in their apartment—the apartment that they found together and live in _together_ —because Miles is apparently more interested in that cat that he’s pretty sure wants to murder him. “I’m just working it out. On my own.”

“Michael,” Miles says, quiet and concerned. He’s so _good_  and Michael knows that he wants to help and that if their positions were reversed there’s no way in hell he’d give up asking either. He turns to look at Miles and his forehead is lined with worry, his eyes soft, crinkled at the corners. Michael _loves_  this man.

He snaps. “It’s the stupid cat,” he admits. “He hates me and you love him and I just—I miss you sometimes because you—sometimes you seem like you’re more interested in him than me so I made Lil J go with me to blow up the place so I wouldn’t sulk at home. I thought it would get it all out and I’d be fine but I’m still just… _jealous_.”

“You’re…jealous?” Miles asks. “Of the cat?”

“It’s stupid and I don’t want to make a big deal out of it,” Michael sighs.

“Michael, baby, you blew up a _building_.”

He covers his face with his hands. “I’m sorry.”

He hears a quiet thud and then a tiny, annoyed sounding _meow_  before Miles is peeling his hands away from his face. “About the building or about being jealous of the cat,” Miles asks. His eyes are shining and there’s a tiny smirk pulling at his lips.

“Don’t make fun of me, asshole,” Michael complains, the insult only _slightly_ undercut by the way he lets Miles pull him into his arms. He ends up settled between Miles’ legs, back to chest as Miles spreads out on the couch. He leans back, sighing and melting into the warmth surrounding him.

“I’m not making fun,” Miles says laughing. “Scout’s honor.”

“I still can’t believe you were a goody-two shoes,” he replies. It feels good to do this, to be wrapped up in the man he loves. Michael feels tension bleed from his body, the short fuse on his anger stubbed out in a moment.

“I’m literally a police detective,” Miles says. Michael likes the way his breath feels against his hair and how his body shakes with his laughter. “You’re still my favorite, you know that right?” His voice has dropped into the cadence Michael associates with ‘Serious Miles’. “I like the cat, sure. But I love you, babe.”

“I know that,” Michael huffs. “I was being stupid.” He turns his head then, silently asking Miles for a kiss. Even the soft press of their lips together makes Michael’s pulse race, just like it did the first time and has every time since. 

“Do you want me to get rid of Bill Furray?” Miles asks when they part.

“No,” Michael says quickly. “I don’t. He just—doesn’t really like me but I’m sure I can like, bribe him with tuna or something.”

Miles laughs and Michael sinks into the sound. “I’ll put it on the grocery list.”


End file.
